


Year One

by godsamitdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, First Meetings, Fluff, Hogwarts, Hogwarts First Year, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:46:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3184295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godsamitdean/pseuds/godsamitdean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Moonlite_Knight in the DeanCas Secret Santa Exchange. </p><p>Harry Potter universe AU. Dean Winchester is going to Hogwarts. He's actually going to go to real wizard school, so he can be an Auror someday. He's excited, and a bit nervous. And when he meets another first year boy on the Hogwarts Express, one with eyes brighter and bluer than the skies, those nervous butterflies in his stomach seem to settle down there permanently, and will stay for the rest of their first year together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Year One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moonlite_Knight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlite_Knight/gifts).



> The prompt was a Harry Potter AU, so I wrote this thing. I love Harry Potter with a deep an abiding passion, so I wrote this for you, moonlite_knight. Thanks as always to my lovely beta Maddie, and I hope you enjoy it!

Year 1

  


When Dean gets his Hogwarts letter on a blisteringly hot Tuesday in July, he's equal parts confused, excited, and worried.

  


“But who will watch Sammy if I'm gone?” is his first question after his dad hands him the sealed envelope with an unidentifiable expression on his face. His family is American, but both sides are notable wizard  families in the international Auror network, so it's no surprise that Hogwarts would want him as a student. But they're tight on money, and who will look after Sam if Dean's gone? Who will teach him how to make people's hair turn different colors and float an inch off the ground in winter, so his feet won't get cold and wet in the snow? And who will teach him how to cover his tracks and keep the Muggle authorities off his trail?

  


Sammy, the wiseass seven-year-old he is, frowns at this insult to his capabilities. “I can take care of myself, Dean!” he almost yells, but a look from Dad shuts him up. Dad turns back to Dean and says, “Dean, you should go. It's the best way for you to become legally qualified to be an Auror.” Dean suspects that he wouldn't have said this, wouldn't have agreed to fancy extra schooling at all, if it wasn't for an incident a few days ago. The FBI nearly caught them, and dad couldn't do the required paperwork with the Wizarding branch to get them off his trail because he wasn't technically a certified Auror, and some other bullshit. Whatever. Dean knew his Dad was the best Auror ever, and he didn’t go to no fancy-ass wizard school.

  


“I don't need to go to school to be a good Auror! I'm already gonna be a good one later, you said so yourself!” Dean says defiantly. Dad just looks at him.

  


Dean sighs. “Okay, I'll go.”

  


 

* * *

 

  


Turns out that shopping for Wizard school supplies is a lot like buying normal Muggle school supplies, except the magical mall is a lot bigger and fits inside a McDonald’s on the West Side of Manhattan. Dean’s in awe as he looks around. Dad’s never let him buy magic supplies before.

  


Phoenix Mall in New York City is a seventy story monstrosity, with enchanted elevators that know what floor you’re going to and take you there in the blink of an eye. It looks like any other rich people mall, Dean thinks, except he doesn’t think that Muggle malls have Quidditch and Quadpot shops or live demonstrations of fireworks in the food court. Dad hustles them through, but Dean and Sam want to look at everything.

  


They buy robes at the Magi-Mart, but Sam throws a temper tantrum when John wants to buy Dean used textbooks. Sam starts yelling about the importance of new knowledge and “those textbooks could’ve been messed with, Dad!” Eventually, Dad gives in and buys Dean expensive new copies at a shmancy bookshop Dean can only describe as “posh.”

  


Buying the wand, though, is the best part by far. Sam and Dad push him into a tiny store sandwiched between a designer robes shop and a pretzel chain with a wink and eighty Galleons, the biggest amount of money he’s seen in his life. The store is cramped with wand boxes, and Dean could spend hours poking around the dusty shelves, but he decides instead to press the little button that reads, “If you must bother me, push this button.”

  


A voice calls out from somewhere in the depths of the shop. “Sorry sugar, just one second!” The voice is female and very sexy sounding, and it makes Dean stand up a little straighter in his too-big sneakers.

  


A tall, curvy woman with black sunglasses and tight blue Levi’s emerges from the stacks. She sticks out her hand to Dean, and he shakes it, trying very hard not to look down her tank top. “Hi, I’m Pamela Barnes, honey. Wandmaker extraordinaire and psychic on the side. Let me guess, you’re here to buy a glorified stick?”

  


“Y-yes’m,” Dean stutters. The lady in front of him has to be the most gorgeous person Dean’s seen in all of existence. She laughs, and he blushes bright red. “Well I can help you then. What’s your name?”

  


“Dean,” he says. “Dean Winchester.”

  


Pamela’s eyebrows raise above her glasses. “So you’re off to school, eh, Dean?” She turns to head back into the stacks, one crooked finger the only indicator for Dean to follow. He obligingly walks behind her, watching her own wand waggle in the back pocket of her jeans.

  


“Yes, ma’am. I’m going to Hogwarts.” Dean is overwhelmed by the smell of old books and dust as he follows Pamela, but it’s not a bad smell. It reminds Dean of his old house in Kansas.

  


“Good for you,” Pamela replies, distracted. She stops at a shelf in the very back of the room and grabs a long red box from the shelf and opens it, presenting the wand inside to Dean. “Seventeen and three-quarters, walnut, with phoenix tail core. Good for charms. Go on, try to make sparks.”

  


Dean takes the wand out of the box, and it thrums with energy in his hand. He gives it an experimental wave, but all it does is turn the boxes in front of him a putrid yellow. Pamela laughs, and he hands it back, shaking his head. Pam sticks the box back in its spot.

  


“No no, not what we want, sugar. How about…” Pamela turns back to the shelf and plucks a new box out, this one blue, “this one. Holly, thirteen and a half, sturdy with a dragon heartstring. Great for defensive magic.”

  


Dean obligingly takes hold of the wand, and is ready to swish it in the air. But Pamela snatches it right back out, muttering something about insane teenagers under her breath. She throws the wand in the air, and some invisible force catches it and sets it back where it belongs. Dean stares.

  


“Ah,” Pamela says from behind him. He turns around, and she’s holding a golden box with black writing etched on the top. “How about…” She carefully removes the lid, and the wand inside has to be the prettiest wand Dean’s ever seen.

  


It’s sturdy, but still long, and must be made of an ancient wood. It has a strip of an iridescent black running down its length, and it’s not carved to look like a fancy wand; rather, it looks like something right off a tree. But it takes Dean’s breath away, and he reaches for it without any guidance from Pamela.

  


The moment he holds the wand in his hand, it practically glows, and Dean can feel the energy run through his body and ring in his ears. He holds it out in front of him, and gold threads began to spiral from the end. Instinctively, Dean raises it high above his head and the threads spiral downwards, until he’s standing in front of two gigantic golden wings.

  


He hears Pamela gasp, and the moment is broken. The threads fall to bits. Dean shakes his head to clear it, and he looks back at Pamela to see her smiling. He stares at her, confusion dotting his face.

  


“Does that happen every time?” he asks aloud.

  


 

* * *

 

  


Turns out that it doesn’t happen every time, and Pamela tells him this excitedly as the cash register rings Dean up. The wand is fifteen inches long and ancient, made of two thousand year old olive wood and magical metal from a mine in the depths of Russia called “The Rack,” a place so deadly that its workers called it Hell. Dean asks about the core, and Pamela just winks at him. She tells him to ask his professors, and she writes down a name for him on a slip of paper, which she tucks in his wand box.

  


The wand is two thousand Galleons, and Dean almost bolts from the shop right then and there, but Pam gives it to him for seventy. He is shocked at her kindness, and insists on giving her the rest of the money, but she refuses. Then she kicks him out of her shop.

  


When Dean turns around, it’s gone.

  


He spots Sam and his dad walking toward him, and he runs over with excitement to show them his new wand. Sammy, as expected, is totally awed by it, and Dean tells him that it’s “fifteen inches and olive wood, Sammy. Pamela said it was over two thousand years old!” But his dad is less thrilled, and more wary of it. He asks the price, and Dean says seventy-five as he hands back the rest of the money. His dad raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t mention it.

  


Sammy nearly trips over himself with excitement when he remembers something else. He grabs what looks like a covered cage from behind Dad and presents it to Dean. Dean tears off the black cloth, only to see an empty owl perch greeting him. There’s a note on it, and Dean grabs it. It simply reads, in neat script Dean’s learn to recognize from countless journals,

  


“I didn’t buy you an owl, but here’s a cage. You’ll need it for Impala when you take her with you.”

  


Dean throws his arms around Dad before he can think, then steps away quickly with his hands behind his back, muttering an apology. But when he looks up, John has a look in his eye that reminds him of when he talks about Mary. Dean says, “thank you, sir,” and John replies in kind, as stiffly as they normally do things. But the rest of the way home, Dean’s buoyed up on happiness, and John’s face is doing something almost similar to smiling.

  


 

* * *

 

  


On September First, Dean has to take the Floo Network to King’s Cross, in London, and then find his train from there. He has to wake up at some god-awful hour in the morning in order to make the 11 o’clock train, and he complains at Sammy about it until he remembers why he’s going.

  


He’s going to Hogwarts. He’s going to real Wizard school. He’s gonna be the best Auror ever, almost as good as his dad.

  


When he has to say goodbye, Dean can tell that Sammy’s hiding tears, and it makes Dean’s eyes feel weird too. But he hugs Sammy anyway and promises that he’ll write, and Sam better learn how to write too. Sam rolls his eyes, and says that he can read and write better than Dean can, which is probably true. Dean shoves him, and calls him a jerk.

  


Dean doesn’t say much to Dad, but they shake hands. Dad tells him not to let his skills go to waste in a pussy school; Dean nods and says, “yes, sir.” But as Dean picks up the old shoe that they're using for a Portkey in the motel room, he sees that same look on Dad’s face that he saw at the mall. He doesn’t have time to ponder it as he feels something yank him from his belly button and he's off to England.

  


 

* * *

 

  


The station is loud and buzzing with the sound of British voices. Dean pulls his duffle bag and backpack behind him and holds Impala’s cage close to his side as he walks to the platform where Dad told him to go, and he slaps someone who tries to snatch his wallet (now holding American, European, and Wizarding money). He looks at the time on the clock on the wall; it reads ten o’clock even.

  


Dean arrives at the divider between platforms 9 and 10 without having to foil any more pickpocketers, and he looks around in self-consciousness before walking straight through the brick barrier with his eyes shut tight. 

  


When he opens them again, he’s on a new platform, this one with a shiny “9 ¾” sign hanging. The people around him are still mostly British, but these are dressed in robes, and many look like students. Some are already on the train, a shiny red coal-powered beast that Dean grudgingly admires. Most, however, are milling around, talking with friends and yelling over the noises of the Hogwarts Express and other wizards. Dean just goes right by them, but he winks at a girl with pretty dark hair and blue eyes who looks like another first year. She blushes, and he smiles. There’s a boy standing next to her; Dean guesses he’s her brother. When he looks at Dean, Dean can’t look away. His eyes are a piercing bright blue, and something flutters in Dean’s chest, something new and unexpected. Dean pushes it down, and looks away.

  


He climbs the steps onto the train and looks around for an empty compartment. He walks down the rows, peeking into room after room until he finds one at the very back of the train. He lugs his things inside, and pushes his duffle bag and backpack into the alcove above the seats. Dean seats himself opposite, and he settles Impala next to him. She’s pecking around the cage, and she doesn’t seem to like it very much. So Dean takes a look around, decides no one’s coming, and turns back to Impala and opens the cage door.

  


“You shouldn’t do that,” an American voice says.

  


Dean jumps about a foot in the air. He turns back to the door and the boy from the platform is standing there.

  


Dean furrows his brow at the boy, who made his insides go all weird again. “You’re not the boss of me!” he says, almost snobbishly. He instantly regrets it. The boy looks hurt, and it makes Dean feel like shit. It’s a new sensation; his actions making him feel bad. Dean sighs, and tries again. “Dude, she looked so cramped and uncomfortable in the cage. I just wanted to let her stretch her legs and wings for a bit. I’ll put her back before we start moving.”

  


The other boy looks pacified. Under closer inspection, he’s prettier than his sister. His hair is rumpled and messy, and his eyes are even bluer now that they’re not so far away. He’s wearing a trench coat thats two sizes too large, and under his arm is a carrier crate. Dean guesses it’s for a cat. He asks as much.

  


The boy nods. “Yes, this is Gabriel. He is very mischievous; I shouldn’t let him out. He will probably try to push someone off the train.”

 

Dean laughs, but the other boy looks completely serious. “What’s your name?” Dean asks.

  


The boy is still standing awkwardly in the door when he answers. “My name is Castiel Milton.”

  


Dean laughs again at how carefully Castiel is pronounced. “Cool. I’m Dean. Can I call you Cas?” he asks. He doesn’t mean to; it just kind of pops out. Castiel frowns, more of from confusion than unhappiness, but he nods.

  


Dean gestures to the interior of the compartment. “Come on in, dude. S’all yours.”

  


Cas walks in the room and puts his stuff next to Dean’s before sitting in the seats opposite. He pulls a book out of his backpack and begins to read. Dean’s across the room and sitting next to him before he can think. “Whatcha readin’?” he asks.

  


Castiel, unlike most people he knows, does not object to having his personal space compromised a matter of minutes after he met Dean. Instead, he shows Dean the cover: “Breakfast of Champions” by Kurt Vonnegut.

  


Dean instantly approves, and he tells Cas this. “But didn’t your parents tell you that it was too old for you?” Dean had to sneak his copy out of a Muggle bookstore in Detroit, because even though his dad curses a lot, he thinks he needs to protect Dean and Sammy.

  


Cas shakes his head. “My mother and father are dead.”

  


Dean winces at the boy’s bluntness. “That sucks, man. My mom died, too.”

  


Castiel blinks. “I apologize,” he says.

  


“Why? It’s not your fault.”

  


“Yes, but I have noticed that humans tend to apologize for things beyond their control. I thought it was appropriate in this context.”

  


Dean laughs. “Well, good job then, buddy.” His focus turns back to the book, and he asks a question, and Cas responds by quoting Dwight Hoover, and soon enough hours have gone by and there’s a witch knocking on the compartment door and asking if they want snacks.

  


Dean buys a bunch of weird-ass British chocolates and a bottle of water, but Castiel opts for a cup (it’s called a flask, Dean) and a sandwich. Dean gives him his Chocolate Frog, because what’s a day without parents if there isn’t any junk food? Cas accepts the gift with that furrow in between his brows, and it makes Dean feel weird again, so he runs back to his side and starts playing with his wand. Alone.

  


Cas joins him after a few minutes, though. “May I see it?” he asks, and Dean nods and hands it over. He doesn’t know why he trusts Cas to hold it, but he does, so that’s that. Castiel’s hands are delicate as he touches the instrument, and he hands it back after a minute. “It’s beautiful, Dean,” he says. It makes Dean smile and say thanks.

  


“Hey, can I see yours?” he asks. Castiel agrees, and clambers back to his side to take out his own wand. He presents it to Dean, who is awed.

  


“Whoa, that’s badass,” he exclaims. The wand is the darkest wood Dean has ever seen, and there are what look like feathers carved along the sides. As he takes it, Dean can feel the power moving through, and he hands it back to Castiel with a “that’s really cool, man.”

  


They spend the rest of the train ride there just talking and poking around their new things, with Impala hopping around and inspecting Cas. Dean can tell she approves when she pecks his hand and settles down right next to him. It makes Dean laugh, and Castiel smile. Castiel tells him about his twin sister, Hannah, and his five older brothers, who raised them after their parents died in a Floo accident. Dean doesn’t talk much about his own family, but he’s happy to listen to Cas talk about the many mishaps and troubles that come with a wizarding family of seven kids and no parents.

  


As they near the castle, they change into black robes, and the excitement drums in Dean’s chest. When he looks at Cas, he doesn’t see the same thing, but Castiel tells him, “I’m quite excited. I wonder what House I will be placed in.”

  


Dean wonders about himself, too. “What are your siblings in?” he asked. “Maybe you’ll be with them?”

  


Cas shakes his head. “They are scattered among the four, so it’s anyone’s guess what I will fall in. Which House do you want to be a member of, Dean?”

  


Dean laughs. “Gryffindor, duh. I’m not smart enough for Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff isn’t for me, and Slytherin is gross.”

 

Castiel nods. “I think you would make an excellent Gryffindor, Dean.”

 

Dean blushes and mutters something along the lines of “yeah yeah whatever,” but secretly he’s pleased.

  


 

* * *

 

  


The boat ride to the castle is fun, and Hogwarts looks amazing, but Dean’s too nervous to think about anything other than his upcoming Sorting ceremony. Cas is in the boat next to him, and when Dean turns to him for comfort, he sees Castiel’s face, struck with wonder, the glittering magic of the castle reflected in his eyes. When he spies Dean looking at him, he takes his hand and squeezes once. It reassures Dean, and he turns back to the castle, abnormally okay with the fact that he’s holding hands with a boy, on a lake, ready to be judged by an inanimate object.

  


The person who takes them to be Sorted is a tall, thin man named Professor Roman, who’s American and kind of scary. Dean hears a girl whisper that he’s the Potions professor, and it doesn’t do much to settle Dean’s nerves. He does hear another first year whisper back that Roman’s first name is Dick, and it makes Dean chuckle.

  


They file in the Great Hall one after the other, and as Roman reads the names off in his politician’s voice, the first years climb onto a stool in front of the four long tables, where the hat is placed on their head. Sometimes it takes less than a moment to pick the House, for others, it takes almost a minute. The redheaded girl at the very front of the line (Bradbury, Charlie) spends what feels like an eternity on the chair before the Sorting Hat yells out “Gryffindor,” and the kid right before Dean (Talbot, Bella) has barely let the hat touch her head before it screams “Slytherin.”

  


Cas and Hannah, his twin sister, both are sorted into Ravenclaw, but Castiel’s took longer than normal. Once he takes his seat, Cas sends Dean an encouraging look, and when “Winchester, Dean” is announced, Dean gulps and strides forward to take his seat, hoping not to trip the entire way.

  


Once Roman lowers the hat onto Dean’s head, Dean can hear it think. “Hmm,” it says in a slithery voice, “where do you belong? Plenty of brains in you, so Ravenclaw could be a good one, but you’re also loyal, so is Hufflepuff the key? Ah, but I see some desire in you, and a longing for a cruel power. Slytherin might be wise. But you are brave, and kind, and adventurous, too. Gryffindor could be the spot. What do you want, dear boy?”

  


Dean’s shocked. He didn’t expect for the Sorting Hat to let him choose. But he goes along with it, and thinks as loud as he can, “Gryffindor. Please, Gryffindor.”

  


“All right,” the hat rasps, and calls Dean’s choice for all to hear.

  


The Gryffindor table whoops, and Dean’s pushed into a seat near some of the other first years with enthusiasm. He grins widely, and he spots Cas from the next table over smiling at him. Dean waves, and Castiel waves back.

  


The headmaster, Professor Singer, yells out for all the ‘idjits to shut up, for crying out loud.’ This gets a huge bout of laughter, and Dean can hear yells of “love you too, Bobby,” and “you better be ref for Quidditch this year!” Bobby smiles behind his beard, and Dean can tell that he loves this school like the students are his children.

  


Bobby gives some announcements, talks about the teachers, and does all that stuff that a normal principal would do on the first day of school. But then he says,

  


“Enough of this chitchat. Let's eat!”

  


A roar of approval rises from the students, and Dean watches in bewilderment as dish after dish after dish appears on the table, until it's having trouble holding itself up. Dean's never seen this much food in his life, probably, and it shows.

  


A fellow first year pokes him in the side with her fork. “Isn't this crazy?” she says to him. There's a huge heap of lasagna on her plate, and she shoves a forkful in her mouth before she sticks out her hand and introduces herself as Jo. “My real name's Joanna Beth Harvelle, but if you call me that I'll hex you.”

  


“That's a tall order for someone so short.” Dean hears, and he turns around to see a prefect smirking down at them. Jo snorts, and the guy introduces himself as Victor. He's Quidditch captain, he says, and he asks Dean if he's going to play. Dean shrugs.

  


“I've never played Quidditch.”

  


Jo gasps in not entirely fake shock, and Victor shakes his head. “Americans. They don't play the good sports.”

  


“Hey!” Dean responds defiantly. “We have American football, which is okay for a Muggle sport, and Quadpot, and our Quidditch team made it to semifinals last year!” Truthfully, Dean couldn’t care less about sports, but he’s not about to let ‘Murica get bashed by a bunch of British freaks.

  


Jo snorts and whispers “Semifinals,” and Dean's about to get into an argument when he remembers the food and redirects his attention. He loads his plate with some sort of weird English thing that smells really good, and he grabs a burger to satisfy his greasy American roots. Around his burger, he debates the finer points of the food with Jo and Adam, another first year, with some other students popping in occasionally to comment.

  


After Dean's stuffed himself silly, and the dessert course has been magically whisked away, the prefects start to push the students back to their common rooms. When Dean stands up, he sees Castiel, and Dean waves before following Victor to the common room. Castiel waves back.

  


The common room is nice, with red and gold drapes giving the dark-paneled room a cozy atmosphere. Stuffy armchairs are all around, but Dean ignores them in favor of heading to bed. All of his bags are waiting for him in a trunk thing at the end of his bed when he walks in. Impala's cage is there, too, and she's waiting on the windowsill when he enters the room. Dean waves her off to the Owlry (which Victor told him about at dinner) and she gives him an affectionate peck before soaring off on wings blacker than the night.

  


 

* * *

 

  


The next morning dawns cool and crisp, and Dean's eternally grateful for breakfast to wake him up. Him and Jo compare schedules. First up is Transfiguration, and then Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Ravenclaws. Dean's excited, because he gets to see Cas again.

  


As they head to the Transfiguration classroom, Jo elbows Dean and whispers about “Lisa Braeden over there really wants you to say hello, Dean.” Dean glances at the Hufflepuff girl, and indeed, she blushes and turns back to her friends when she sees him looking. She's pretty, sure, and normally Dean would try to strike up a conversation, but all he can think about is how her big brown eyes are nothing like Castiel's intense blue ones. He smiles and keeps walking.

  


Transfiguration is taught by Professor Harvelle, Jo's mom. She's tough, and assigns homework on the first day of class, but she has a nice smile and is a nice person, Dean thinks. But she's a mom teacher, and will therefore see through all of his excuses for not doing his homework.

  


On the first day, they try to change pins to needles. It's difficult for Dean, but he manages to do one by the end of class. Harvelle smiles at him when he presents it to her, and he's walking to his next class with something akin to pride in his face and a puffed-up chest.

  


Charlie Bradbury, the girl who sat next to him, got five. She did it perfectly on the first time, and then made her needle dance. Harvelle glared at her when that happened, probably because it almost stabbed the person in front of her, and asked Charlie to talk to her after class. Dean can tell it's not about something bad, though.

  


When Dean walks into Defense Against the Dark Arts, Cas is already at the very front of the room. Hannah is next to him, and they're both sitting with their heads bent over a textbook. Dean sits down behind them, and he pokes Castiel with a pencil until he turns around. His face is stony, but relaxes when he sees that it's Dean.

  


“Hello, Dean. This is my sister Hannah.” He gestures to the girl, and Dean says hello. She responds in kind. In some part of his brain, Dean notes that while Hannah looks like Cas, her hair is less messy and her face more open. She's pretty, but not as nice-looking as her brother.

  


Dean asks Castiel about Ravenclaw, and Castiel tells a story about waking up this morning locked in his room, unable to leave unless he could solve a riddle carved on the door. It makes Dean laugh, and too soon class is starting.

  


“All right, all right, settle down,” an ornery old man calls out from the door of his office. He wheels himself to the front of the room, and all Dean can think about him is that this guy probably comes up with conspiracy theories and argues them on the Internet in his free time.

  


The teacher's name is Frank Deveraux, and he's probably the most paranoid person Dean's met in all of his existence. He spends the first half hour of class lecturing about the dangers of the Muggle and Wizarding worlds, and makes points by thrusting his finger in some unexpecting student's face. It's very entertaining, actually, and Dean finds himself smiling at the teacher's annoying, yet sarcastic and funny view of the world.

  


Deveraux calls up students to show if they can perform a Shield Charm, and Dean's the only one who can even do it a little bit. He could probably do just as well without a wand, cuz his dad taught him some simple defensive magic when he was really little. Deveraux grumbles about how it “wasn't bad, but needs work,” but Charlie high fives him when he walks back to his seat and Jo mouths “good job”. When Dean sits back down, Castiel quietly whispers a “Good job, Dean,” and it makes Dean practically buzz with happiness.

  


 

* * *

 

  


Days and weeks pass, and Dean doesn’t register that he’s been away from home for so long until he looks out the window one morning in October and spies the groundskeeper lugging in gigantic pumpkins for tomorrow’s Halloween feast. Dean feels guilty for not thinking about his family enough, and he resolves to send Sammy a lengthy letter to make up for all of the times he didn’t write. But he doesn’t know where to address it to, and no owl could fly across the entire ocean anyway. Dean sighs, and resolves himself to his Potions essay (Professor Roman really deserves his first name).

  


Dad sends a letter to Dean via regular Muggle postage a few weeks later. It has no return address, and Dean guesses that Dad and Sam are at some motel somewhere. The note is short, and all it says is that Dean can’t go back to the US for Christmas because of something or other. It angers Dean, and he’s about to throw it across the room when he sees something else in the envelope. He takes it out.

  


It’s a photo of Mary. In it, she’s standing at a window, laughing at the scene outside: two little boys turning the snow around them bright blue. One is four, and looks like he’s trying to keep the baby out of the snow. But the littler one keeps falling face-first anyway, but he doesn’t get any snow on his face. Mom is cracking up at the expression on Sammy’s face, and Dean looks proud.

  


Dean smiles at the picture as Mom turns to wave at the camera a moment later. He places it carefully back in the envelope, and sets it in the back of his trunk, behind his wand box and Muggle books.

  


 

* * *

 

  


Dean and Cas don’t get to hang out much outside of Defense Against the Dark Arts and Astrology (which the Gryffindors also share with the Ravenclaws), but they soon make a habit of studying in the library together every afternoon before dinner and sometimes on Saturdays. Castiel always insists on actually studying, which Dean hates; but he studies anyway. He’s doing pretty well in most of his classes, much better than he did at Muggle schools. His teachers think he’s a little shit, though, as he heard Professor Harvelle tell Professor Missouri Moseley, the Charms teacher, one day in the library. “But a lovable little shit,” Missouri had replied, and then, without turning around, said that Dean better not let this get to his head or she’ll have to do a Ego-Shrinking Spell on him. Dean ran back to his table, sniggering in delight.

  


Cas says there’s no such thing as an Ego-Shrinking Spell, but Dean’s on the lookout, just to be safe.

  


Dean thinks that Castiel is probably the best friend he’s ever had. Even though he’s Dean’s polar opposite in a lot of ways, Cas is brave, crazy smart, and is so unknowledgable about Muggle pop culture that he makes Dean laugh a lot without really meaning to. And every time Dean laughs, Castiel gives this funny little half-smile back, as if saying, “Yes, I made Dean Winchester laugh. I’m proud of myself.”  At least that’s what Dean hopes he’s thinking.

  


Charlie and Jo tease him. They think he has a crush on Cas, which is totally not true. He doesn’t like Cas, who’s just like any other eleven-year-old kid. He doesn’t. Butterflies when Cas laughs at a joke Dean made is completely normal. Wanting to kiss him on the cheek like he remembers his dad doing to his mom does not mean he’s gay. They’re totally just friends. Castiel is a boy, and doesn’t like Dean. So Dean doesn’t like Cas. Dean doesn’t like boys, right? He’s a man, and he ain’t no queer.

  


Charlie slaps him when he voices this, and he regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth. He apologizes, but it takes two pies taken from the kitchens by the Hufflepuff common room and all of Dean’s persuasive power for her to forgive him. Dean knows what he said was wrong, and he supposes that it’s okay to be a little gay. Just a little.

  


But he’s totally not gay for Cas.

  


 

* * *

 

  


The end-of-term tests before Christmas Break are total killers, and it takes all of Dean’s willpower to not just give up halfway through studying. But with Castiel’s encouragement, and a constant flow of marshmallow caramel hot chocolate from the machine Charlie magicked in the common room, Dean manages to pass all of the tests.

  


Jo, Castiel, and Hannah are staying at Hogwarts over break, and it secretly pleases Dean that Cas wants to hang out with him. They walk Charlie and the other first-years to the station by the lake to board the Hogwarts Express, and Dean waves at the train until it’s a speck on the horizon and his fingers are turning blue. When Castiel sees the state of Dean’s hands, he grabs for them and rubs them between his own gloved ones. It makes Dean blush under his scarf, and he yanks his (much warmer hands) away, muttering, “Dude, I don’t need you to do that.” Cas looks hurt at this, and Dean instantly feels bad, so he apologizes and practically runs back to the castle in the lightly falling snow.

  


When Cas finds him wandering under the trees by the west side of the building an hour later, neither of them say anything. Castiel just walks next to him, a little too close, as usual, and it makes Dean feel a little uncomfortable in a good way, as usual. Cas doesn’t look like he harbors any hard feelings about what happened, and Dean feels his tension dissipate.

  


After they’ve been wandering for so long that their feet are frozen, they head back inside to warm up in the Great Hall, where the rest of the students who stayed for break are gathered for dinner. Dean tells Cas to sit next to him at the Gryffindor table (which is practically empty), and Cas refuses at first, claiming that it’s “not proper, Dean; we’re of different Houses.” Dean rolls his eyes at Cas’s newfound English expressions. But then Dean points to Jo and Hannah engrossed in a conversation at the end of the Ravenclaw table, and Castiel agrees.

  


 

* * *

 

  


Christmas Day dawns cold and snowy, and Impala looks like she wants to murder Dean when he takes too long to let her through the window, a two full seconds after he wakes up. She’s haughty and ignores him while she warms up, and Dean takes the opportunity to check the foot of his bed for gifts.

  


There are very few packages there, but it’s more than Dean has ever got for Christmas in his life. He tears open the first one eagerly, wrapped in the comics section of the New York Times.

 

It’s from his dad. Underwear, socks, and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt obviously bought in some random Wal-Mart in the Midwest. The clothes make Dean smile goofily, and since no one’s here to see him, he lets the grin stay on his face.

  


From Sam, there's a horned amulet stuffed in between the underwear. It's really cool looking, and Dean immediately slips the necklace over his head. It's warm where it rests on his pajama shirt.

  


The one underneath that is from Jo, and it’s not even wrapped. It’s one of those Muggle tea party sets for five-year-old girls. It has some sort of out-of-proportion princess chick on the side, and Dean laughs. He resolves to get her back.

  


Charlie got him a metric fuckton of candy, as expected; it's what he got her. There's wizard candy along with Muggle varieties, and he's chomping his way through a Hershey bar when he sees it.

  


One bright green box with his name written on it in Castiel's flowing penmanship.

  


He grabs for the little box, and opens it with ardor. Inside is a simple silver and leather bracelet, with what looks like protective symbols etched into it. Dean can feel magic radiating from it, and he knows that it must have taken Cas weeks to make this. The thought leaves him glowing in ways he can't describe.

  


Dean picks up Castiel's present from its hiding spot under his bed, and he throws on the first clothes he finds before running to the Great Hall.

  


Hannah is already there, but Castiel is nowhere to be seen. Dean asks her where he is, and she shrugs. “According to Uriel, he woke up very early and left. I do not know where he is.”

  


Dean sighs in frustration, but thanks her. She nods, and asks about Jo. Dean says that she's probably gonna be down in a moment, and Hannah smiles.

  


Dean heads to the library, because if Cas isn't there, he isn't anywhere. Dean ambles through the shelves, looking around.

  


He honestly should've expected Castiel sneaking up on him like a goddamn stalker.

  


“Hello, Dean,” runs through his ear, and Dean jumps backwards, nearly knocking into Castiel. “Jesus, dude! You scared the crap outta me. You gotta stop doing that,” Dean turns and says, too loudly in the silent library. Castiel lifts a finger to Dean's lips, as if he can read Dean's mind, and Dean goes cross-eyed trying to look at it. Castiel laughs quietly, and the corners of Dean's eyes crinkle before he shoves the finger off of his face.

  


“Why are you here?” Dean asks. Castiel wordlessly holds up the book in his hand: “How to Tame a Really Fucking Difficult Cat” by K. J. Rowling. The book is practically torn in half, and Castiel looks at it like it's an abomination on God's good earth.

 

“I received this for Christmas from Ash as a joke, but Gabriel tore it up before I could even open the package. I was looking for spells on how to repair books. I tried Reparo, but it's not specific enough.”

  


Castiel looks baffled at his cat's actions, and it makes Dean want to smile again. “Dude, just ask one of the professors to fix it for you. Moseley or Harvelle would do it,” Dean suggests.

  


Castiel shakes his head. “I would like to do this myself, Dean,” he says concisely. “Also, I doubt that any of the professors would look at me the same way again if they saw the title of this book.”

  


Dean laughs; that's a good point Cas makes there. Then he remembers the reason he came here.

  


“Oh! I got you a Christmas present!” he says excitedly, and hands Castiel the gift he so carefully wrapped in blue paper; almost the color of Cas's eyes, but not quite. Castiel squints at the paper, then at Dean, like he's not really sure that Dean wants to give him the present.

  


Dean rolls his eyes almost affectionately. “Dude, just open it already.”

  


Castiel glares without any real menace, but obediently unwraps the gift: a book entitled “2014 Ways to Get Your Magical Shit Together.” Dean knows that the title is crude, but the book is actually full of spells and potions and a bunch of really cool information. Castiel examines the book with interest, and when he looks back at Dean, his eyes are bright. “Thank you, Dean. This is a lovely gift.”

  


“But that's not all!” Dean says it like he's one of those infomercial announcers. “This is also just for you!” He presents Castiel with another book. This one is a complete collection of Vonnegut short stories, which he stole from another Muggle bookshop several years back, and when Cas looks at Dean this time, his blue eyes are positively sparkling. “Thank you very much, Dean.”

  


Those simple words make Dean grin wider than he thought he could.

  


\-----

  


Soon, break ends and the second term begins. His birthday comes and goes, and Charlie gets him a pie from the kitchens. He enchants Jo's piece under the table to make it run around her plate, and the look of frustration on her face is pure gold. Cas gets him a charm for his bracelet; this one a five-pointed star with flames burning around it. It's badass, and Dean thanks Cas profusely until their faces are both burning red.

  


The teachers pile on the homework load like they want to break the first years, and Jo and Charlie soon tire of Dean's constant complaints. He starts studying in the library with Castiel more and more, and they even go to some Quidditch games. Gryffindor has a good team this year, but Slytherin and Ravenclaw are really dominating. Dean and Cas aren't that big on sports, but the rest of the audience cheers the players until they're blue in the face and their throats are raw. The excitement is infectious, and soon Dean finds himself trash talking like a Phillies fan at a Red Sox game. Castiel finds the whole ordeal very amusing.

  


Springtime is usually invisible until it shoots Dean in the face, and this year is no exception. He looks out the window in Charms one day and sees the flowers growing and the birds chirping, and it makes him think of home and Sammy. They've written when they can, but it's hard with having to use Muggle mail and the other two-thirds of his family constantly moving around. Dean feels like he's abandoned his brother; it doesn't help that when he finally sees a picture of Sammy, the kid looks older than he ought to be.

  


He falls into a funk during Easter, and when Castiel notices his mood, he takes Dean on a midnight trip up to the Astronomy tower. They lie on their backs with their hands almost touching and point out constellations, and it's the most relaxing thing Dean's done in practically ever.

  


Too soon, the end of the semester is approaching and exams are upon them. Dean gripes more than he thought possible (“I'm freaking twelve, man, why do I have to take finals?!”), but he also studies more than he thought he could stand. It pays off: he aces them all. Even the Potions one with Dick Roman breathing down his neck with his shark teeth ready to chomp at the first sign of blood.

  


Too soon, he's packing up his battered suitcase and backpack and stuffing Impala back into her cage, ready to head back home for the summer. It makes him sad in too many ways, and he's surly as a result. When he claims the compartment at the back again and Cas joins him, he doesn't talk much to his best friend. Castiel senses his emotions and leaves him be, but sits right next to Dean the whole way back home. It comforts Dean in ways he doesn't understand. But Cas is safe, and Cas is his friend, so he lets himself lean on him and rest his head on Castiel's shoulder. His eyes close, and he breathes in deeply.

  


He's going home.

  


\----

  


They pull into King's Cross at four in the afternoon. Castiel gently wakes Dean, and they stretch and stand before collecting their bags and various animal cages. Dean promises to write when he can, and Castiel promises to reply when his brothers will let him use the family owl. Dean looks at Cas, and Cas looks at him, and they stare at each other for what feels like an eternity before Dean awkwardly coughs and says goodbye. Castiel looks oddly disappointed, but repeats the sentiment. He steps out of the compartment with one last look at Dean before he practically runs out of the train car. Dean sighs and follows him.

  


Dean walks down the stairs to get off the train when he trips over his shoelace and falls, his backpack spilling open. The letters from Sam and his dad fall out of the wandbox, and he scrambles to pick them up before the wind scatters them all over the platform.

  


He's got all the letters when he spies one tiny slip of paper poking out from underneath his shoe. Carefully, he lifts his heel and grabs it, unfolding the white stationery from Jesse & Pamela: Wands and Fortunes.

 

“Find a boy named Castiel Milton, and he'll tell you what's in your wand, and maybe your heart.”

  


The note is unbearably cheesy, but it still sends a shockwave through Dean. He stands up and scans the crowd, looking for a familiar head of messy dark hair-there!

  


Dean runs to the brick wall, where Cas and Hannah are about to disappear through with a tall, languidly handsome older teenager. “Cas!” he calls out, and Castiel turns at Dean's exclamation.

  


“Oh, hello, Dean. Allow me to introduce you to my brother Lucifer-”

  


“Cas,” Dean interrupts, ignoring for the time being Castiel’s brother’s name, “do you know what the core of my wand is?”

  


It's an unexpected question for sure, and Cas blinks several times, as if buffering, before nodding. “Yes, I do.”

  


Dean knows that Lucifer and Hannah are staring at him, but he doesn't care. “Really? Cuz I don't. What is it?”

  


Castiel looks at Dean like he's out of his mind, but he opens his mouth to respond. “Grace, Dean. The core of your wand is the grace of an angel.”

  


Dean's brain grinds to a halt. He was expecting something normal, like a unicorn hair or maybe dragon heartstring. Not freaking angelic grace. Are angels even real? He voices this thought.

  


Castiel smiles. “That's for you to decide for yourself. See you next term, Dean.” He turns to go, but Dean stops him with a hand on his arm.

  


“See ya, Cas,” he says softly, and impulsively pecks Castiel on the cheek before running through the barrier.

  


The last thing he sees of his friend, out of the corner of his eye, is Castiel touching his blushing cheek in surprise, an unadulterated grin on his face.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun to write. I might make it into a series or add little timestamps. I love Harry Potter universes. They're something special I hold close to my heart, right next to these lovable little shits. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and happy Secret Santa!


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